


Cold Hands, Warm Heart

by ElenaHana, tookumade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Embedded Images, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-24 06:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20903228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenaHana/pseuds/ElenaHana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: Yes, Hanamaki Takahiro just really hated cold weather.Or so Matsukawa thought.





	Cold Hands, Warm Heart

**Author's Note:**

> An art/fic collaboration with the wonderful **Hanatsuki89**! They drew the art that you can find at the end of the fic. See more of their amazing art over on [tumblr](https://hanatsuki89.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Hanatsuki89/). Thank you for being so patient, Hana! ♡

For someone who was born in the middle of winter, Hanamaki didn’t deal with the cold very well.  
  
Every single day that fell below his preferred temperatures, his friends would hear at least three variations of “_fuck this weather_” throughout the morning and afternoon—the colder it was, the more creative. Yuda had reported that he was writing each of them down, and would put them together to compose a rap song by the time they graduated. Hanamaki, instead of swiping at him like he normally would, just grumbled crankily and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.  
  
Hanamaki’s movements tended to be slower in general. He would have to do extra warm-ups in order to fully function for any sort of volleyball training or PE activity; his more competitive classmates knew that the best times to get the upper hand on him during PE classes was during the coldest winter days, because as an athlete, Hanamaki on a good day was truly a force to be reckoned with.  
  
Even outside of school, Hanamaki was no better—worse, maybe.  
  
The first thing he did whenever he went to a friend’s house that owned a kotatsu, was drag it out of storage like he owned the place—he always had a knack of guessing where a household kept their kotatsu on the first try, and he could always be charming enough that his friends’ parents would laugh it off and not mind at all. Exhibit A: Matsukawa’s parents, who had known Hanamaki since the first half of their first year at senior high school, and had gotten to a point where, as soon as Hanamaki entered their household during the winter, they would say happily, “_Hanamaki-kun! Welcome, welcome, it’s cold isn’t it? Will you help us take out the kotatsu?_” They adored him, and Matsukawa’s grandmother had even knitted him four scarves, three beanies, and a pair of gloves over the high school years that he and Matsukawa knew each other, because Hanamaki liked colourful clothing, while Matsukawa and his parents preferred more muted colours, and so this apparently gave Matsukawa’s grandmother more opportunities to test out different bright colour combinations.  
  
Not that Hanamaki needed any more scarves and beanies and gloves. The combined weight of all of Hanamaki’s winter clothes could probably ground an airplane; he probably had enough that he could open up his own store for the whole season. Matsukawa had a feeling that Hanamaki would try to wear them all at once for warmth, if it were physically possible. (He had probably already tried; Matsukawa wouldn’t put it past him.)  
  
Yes, Hanamaki Takahiro just really hated cold weather.  
  
Or so Matsukawa thought.  
  
For the most recent winter to hit their city, Matsukawa braced himself for all the complaining and warmth-keeping shenanigans Hanamaki would get up to, all the poking Matsukawa would have to do just to get Hanamaki to function at even half his usual levels. As much as he loved Hanamaki—in every sense; Matsukawa was the one who had confessed to him over the most recent summer, after all—it could be like dealing with a child, sometimes. Matsukawa could definitely be patient, and Hanamaki’s shenanigans could be endearing, but still, they had places to go and things to do, and often not a lot of time for it.  
  
It had snowed again overnight, covering the streets and buildings and vehicles with fresh layers of white. At their usual spot where they met to walk to school together in the morning, Matsukawa arrived to find Hanamaki (wearing an electric-blue-white-yellow-striped scarf that Matsukawa’s grandmother had knitted him, a beige beanie, and a pair of dark blue gloves) already there, smiling at Matsukawa as he approached. There was no sign of his usual morning sleepiness or his sulking over the cold weather. How suspicious.  
  
“Hey,” said Hanamaki.  
  
“Good morning,” Matsukawa replied, coming to a stop in front of him. “I thought you slept in, I was ready to head over to your house to kick your door down.”  
  
“You really give a literal meaning to the term _home-wrecker,_ you know?”  
  
“Can you blame me?”  
  
“My mother keeps brings up that time you came over to _literally_ drag me out of bed by my ankles. It still makes her laugh until she cries. I hate that she loves you so much.”  
  
Matsukawa grinned. “You’re welcome. Let’s go.”  
  
“_Urgh_,” said Hanamaki with a roll of his eyes that Matsukawa knew he didn’t mean, confirmed by the little grin on Hanamaki’s face.  
  
As they turned down the road to get to school, Hanamaki pulled off one of his gloves and handed it to Matsukawa.  
  
“What’s this?”  
  
“A glove.”  
  
“Why am I dating you?”  
  
“Because you’re the luckiest man alive. Put this on; I know you usually have warm hands but it’s freezing today. Hurry up.”  
  
With a loud and thoroughly exaggerated sigh of exasperation (“Oh, come _on_, is that necessary?” said Hanamaki), Matsukawa pulled the glove on.  
  
“Okay,” he said. “We match. Now what?”  
  
Hanamaki responded by swiftly shoving his own ungloved hand into Matsukawa’s pocket.  
  
“Oh,” said Matsukawa. “Of _course_.” Hanamaki had started doing this pocket-stealing thing a few weeks ago as the temperature began to drop, and by now, it had become a well-practiced routine. Matsukawa really should have seen this coming.  
  
With another sigh, smaller and fonder this time, he slipped his own ungloved hand into the same pocket, finding Hanamaki’s fingers easily and lacing them together. Hanamaki beamed at him, victorious; Matsukawa refused to look at him, but it was his turn to be unable to hide the little smile on his face now.  
  
They continued walking towards their school, huddled right up next to each other for warmth (read: Hanamaki huddling up against Matsukawa and leeching off his body heat). Hanamaki was whistling the new Mrs. Green Apple song that had been circulating the radio lately, and he walked with a bit of a spring in his step.  
  
“I’m not used to you being so cheerful in this weather,” said Matsukawa. “Especially in the morning. I thought you hated the cold.”  
  
“Ah. Well, I did,” said Hanamaki, voice slightly muffled from behind his scarf tucked close to his face. “But I’ve learned to appreciate it more lately.”  
  
“How? Why?”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
There was a long pause, before Matsukawa realised he wasn’t going to answer properly. He nudged Hanamaki in the ribs. “Why the change of heart?”  
  
“Mm.”  
  
“_Hanamaki_.”  
  
“I just… like it more.”  
  
“That makes no sense. This is _you_ we’re talking about.”  
  
“That’s _rude_, Matsukawa! Oikawa was right; you’ve been hanging around Iwaizumi too much.”  
  
“Don’t,” said Matsukawa, nudging him again. “Don’t change the topic, c’mon.”  
  
“My heart is _breaking!_” said Hanamaki, dramatically now, slapping his gloved hand across his chest. “That Iwaizumi Hajime is a terrible influence! You’re not the same man I married all these years ago—_oof!_”  
  
Matsukawa had grabbed at Hanamaki’s ribs with his gloved hand in an attempt to tickle him. It was generally a good technique to throw Hanamaki off, given how deathly ticklish he could be—but Matsukawa had forgotten that it was much less effective in winter when Hanamaki bundled up and wore more layers than usual, including his thick school blazer. Plus, Matsukawa was wearing a glove. All of this resulted in a failed tickle-attack.  
  
“HA!” said Hanamaki triumphantly. “I’m well-defended!”  
  
“Oh my _god_, Hanamaki.”  
  
“I love the winter!”  
  
“See what I mean? I never thought I’d hear that from _you_, of all people!”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”  
  
Hanamaki pointedly looked away when Matsukawa stared at him with raised eyebrows.  
  
“Yuda’s got almost enough lyrics for his Hanamaki Anti-Winter Rap Hit Single, you know,” he said.  
  
The noise Hanamaki made was something like a cross between blowing a raspberry and a sulky hiss of betrayal.  
  
“I _trusted_ Yuda,” he grumbled.  
  
“Good guy, Yuda. I hope he remembers us when he’s famous. But back on topic: you, winter, change of heart—are you actually feeling okay?”  
  
“I’m _fine_. And you know what, I _could_ go right back to complaining and whinging, if you really want me to.”  
  
Matsukawa gave a helpless shrug. “I’m just curious!” he said. “You’ve always hated the really cold days, so I just wanted to know what made you like it all of a sudden. You seem… _happier_, so…”  
  
They fell into silence as they walked for a little while. It wasn’t an awkward silence by any means—if anything, Hanamaki seemed to be thinking about how to put his words together. Matsukawa traced small circles over the back of Hanamaki’s hand with his thumb. _Hey, say something—I want to know what makes you happy._  
  
“I still don’t _like_ it,” said Hanamaki at last. “The winter, I mean. But I guess I just… hate it a little less nowadays.”  
  
Matsukawa nudged him lightly, an unspoken _so tell me, what made you change your mind?_  
  
“It’s just… you’re warm.”  
  
“Th—wait, what?” Matsukawa looked at him in surprise.  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
“I… huh?”  
  
“It’s… _ugghh_. It’s because you’re _warm_, dumbass! It’s _nice_, and when I’m with you, I don’t think so much about how cold it is, okay? Why do you have to be so embarrassing?” Hanamaki hunched his back slightly so he could bury his face a little deeper into his scarf. Matsukawa could see that he was blushing. What the hell. What the _hell_.  
  
“What the hell,” said Matsukawa blankly.  
  
“Don’t make a fuss,” Hanamaki grumbled. “This isn’t—”  
  
He was cut off abruptly by Matsukawa grabbing him by the collar of his blazer with his free hand, pulling him close, and then kissing him.  
  
Their kisses were always nice, whether they were kissing playfully or whether they were more serious, and this kiss was somewhere in the middle—Hanamaki giving a muffled yelp of surprise, before it all melted into something sweeter, something he was used to. This whole time, their hands were still joined in Matsukawa’s pocket, and they allowed themselves to enjoy this for as long as they could, before remembering that, well, they still had to get to school.  
  
They pulled away a little reluctantly, and for a moment, they were quiet, before Hanamaki cuffed Matsukawa’s shoulder with his free hand.  
  
“You _jackass_,” Hanamaki wheezed. “Now I’m too warm!”  
  
“You’re blushing.”  
  
“So are you!”  
  
Matsukawa grinned. “Yeah.”  
  
“Oh my _god_.” Hanamaki shook his head and continued walking, pulling Matsukawa along behind him. Though he tried to keep up an air of exasperation, it was impossible to stop himself from laughing. “You are the _cheesiest_—”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“—_the most_—”  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
“I’m—” Hanamaki stared at him again, and this time, Matsukawa had to look away, also laughing.  
  
“Come on, we’re gonna be late.”  
  
“_I can’t believe you_.”  
  
“You knew what you were getting into, when you agreed we should try dating,” said Matsukawa, grinning wide. It was his turn to walk ahead now, pulling Hanamaki along. “Actually, now that think about it, you were the one who suggested we try dating in the first place, after I confessed.”  
  
“It really was me, wasn’t it?” said Hanamaki with a sigh. But he smiled, and then leaned forward a little to press his forehead against Matsukawa’s shoulder for a moment.  
  
“I love you too, dumbass,” he muttered.  
  
Though he couldn’t see it, Matsukawa’s smile turned into something softer, something warmer. He squeezed Hanamaki’s hand a little, and Hanamaki fell into step beside him to huddle up for warmth again. They continued on their way to school, shoulder to shoulder, not saying much, but enjoying each other’s company, like they always had.  
  
It was a beautiful day. They knew their winter would be a warm one for them.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hanatsuki89: [twitter](https://twitter.com/Hanatsuki89/) | [tumblr](https://hanatsuki89.tumblr.com/)  
tookumade: [twitter](https://twitter.com/naffnuffnice) | [tumblr](https://naff-nuff-nice.tumblr.com/)


End file.
